That is how Major G.P.W. Meredith of the Royal Australian Artillery found himself leading two regiments of battle-hardened soldiers, complete with some big-ass heavy machine guns, to unleash hell on a bunch of helpless birds.
And thus began Bird War One.
This did not go well.
The very first clash of the operation proved that the emus were gifted in the art of guerrilla tactics in a way that would make the Jurassic Park velociraptors break out into spontaneous applause. Herding them together for easy pickings proved near impossible, and they scattered in every direction the second the first bullets flew. Only a handful of birds succumbed to the worst hail of bullets the troops could offer -- the others vanished into the scenery without a trace. What's more, many of the birds that ran away with zero difficulty had clearly sustained hits. They just didn't give a shit about bullets.
"I've got more balls in my beak than your whole damn battalion!"